


right within your heart

by ar_lath_ma



Series: and it slips [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Christmas, Cullenlingus (Dragon Age), Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Porn, Porn With Plot, Romance, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 14:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ar_lath_ma/pseuds/ar_lath_ma
Summary: Amaryllis was quite used to the loneliness the holidays always seemed to bring.Until now.Smutty fluff for Satinalia/Valentine's Day set in the future of the "and it slips" universe.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s)
Series: and it slips [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209905
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7
Collections: A Dragon Age Valentine's 2021, Satinalia 2020





	right within your heart

**Author's Note:**

> Am I posting this very, very late for both holidays? Yes.
> 
> Seasonal depression seems to have abated. I am now human again. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it, which was quite a lot, actually, so much so that it took me forever to actually finish. Because I have very high expectations for myself. Which makes no sense, but this is what happens lol
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! 
> 
> Warning: tis very explicit. Penis in vagina. Lots of sex. Uses of words like "cunt" and "cock."

It might have been 19 years since Amaryllis last saw her mother deftly hang string lights along the crown moulding in their living room, or heard her softly sing along to Bing Crosby’s crooning, but the Ferelden snows reminded her daily of both, and the only lyric she seemed to be able to remember.

_It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…_

It had been difficult, at first. The Dalish didn’t celebrate any holiday of the sort. Her clan hadn’t even celebrated birthdays until she had arrived. Winters came and went, more slowly than she had ever imagined they could, and each year felt lonelier than the last. With the first snowfall of the season came her memories. Her father’s fuzzy Christmas socks. Stealing candy canes from the tree with Akasha. Sipping hot cocoa in the dark, cuddled under a blanket with her mother, watching the Grinch fall to the ground on TV and clutch at his chest as his heart grew and grew. While Amaryllis felt her chest becoming colder, strangling her fragile heart with each beat. It wasn’t until spring came and the snow melted that Amaryllis found herself able to breathe again.  
  
But it was different, now. Easier. She no longer dreaded the change in the air, signaling winters approach. Her heart no longer constricted painfully at the sight of a single snowflake. She could breathe with ease, and looked forward to the onset of the season, all thanks to Cullen. He had given her so much more than she could ever describe - more than she could ever thank him for.

Sitting taller upon her horse, Amaryllis gazed across the snowy landscape, and the trodden path before them. “We had better get a move on,” she said. “It'll be after dinner by the time we arrive, and I don't want to have to fight your poor nephew for the last bit of Mia's fudge. Again.”

To her left, the former commander of the Inquisition chuckled, finally cinching his saddlebags closed before heaving himself up and over his own mount. He settled across the horses back with an ease Amaryllis herself had never been able to master. She would have been jealous, had he been anyone but Cullen. "Yes, yes, I could do without watching you fight a small child over dessert for the second year in a row.”

“If we make it a third, will it become a Rutherford family tradition? Can I pass it down to future generations?” She chortled, grinning teasingly in his direction. Her husband rolled his eyes but the flush in his cheeks betrayed his real thoughts on the matter. “Family tradition it is.”

Cullen took up his reins, moved his mount beside hers, and leaned over to press a warm kiss to her temple. “I’ve no qualms with that.”

*

It had only been a quarter of an hour into their ride when snow began to fall gently, at first, landing upon the tip of Amaryllis’ nose like winter’s kiss, then faster, its flakes clumping together midair. They hadn’t said much to each other on the matter, knowing it could be a brief dusting, but there had been a noticeable uptick in their pace as it continued on. 

The wind picked up, whipping wisps of her hair along with it, pulling it from its usual braid. Amaryllis pulled her hood up to cover her steadily reddening ears and unknowingly knocked a pile of white down her face. Snowflakes gathered on her lashes, melting quickly to fall down her face like mock tears. The path that had laid before them, the path they took every month to visit the Rutherfords in South Reach, was no longer visible. 

Cullen stopped and turned his horse. Amaryllis met his dejected gaze and shrugged, lifting the corner of her lips in resignation. “We can try again next week,” she suggested. “They’ll understand.”

“The sky had been clear just an hour ago.”

“I know.”   
  
He sighed, pursing his pale lips. “We should have left this morning; the clinic could have waited a few more days… and they’ll be expecting us,” he continued. “Mia will be worried.”

“She’ll have expected us to choose our lives and safety over a family dinner,” Amaryllis said. The cold air bit at the tip of her nose. Her lips fumbled over her words, too frozen to form them properly. “No matter how tempting her delicious, buttery potatoes may be. We can continue to sit here and air our regrets until our lips turn blue, but I’d much prefer to do it before the hearth in our own home.”  
  
At that, Cullen nodded, his mouth curled into a deep frown. “You’re right, of course. Come on then, before the trail disappears entirely.” 

They had been right to turn back when they did, knowing far too well how quickly winter weather could take a turn for the worse. The snow had begun to lay at an alarming rate, quickly piling atop what had already been there, as the wind churned ever fiercer and the sky darkened, along with Cullen’s mood. She knew how much time with his family meant to him, after such a long time away, though he didn’t often admit it, for she felt the same. Amaryllis could only hope that the storm would pass swiftly and allow them to make the short journey to South Reach within the next few days.  
  
The thick snowfall made it hard for either of them to make out the roof of their home until it was already upon them. Their horses picked up their feet at the sight of the stable, knowing food, shelter, and warmth awaited them. Cullen and Amaryllis both dismounted quickly at the stable doors. Cullen reached out a hand to take the reins from his wife, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Go on,” he said. “Get the fire started. I’ll take care of them.”

Though Amaryllis knew Cullen was worse at handling the cold than she, she wasn’t about to argue, not with the way the snow was piled along their hoods and shoulders. She ran the few yards from the stable to their front door, unlocking it swiftly. It opened with a creak, muffled by the wind blowing in from behind her. She reached for the lamp beside the door, using what little mastery of fire she had to snap her fingers and conjure a flame to light it.   
  
Snow clung to her boots and the bottom of her cloak. Amaryllis shook the heavy fabric and stomped her feet to loosen it until the white fell away in clumps onto the stone floor. She paused for a moment to pull the boots from her feet, grimacing at how quickly the floor had cooled without a steady fire going, and hobbled in her thick socks across the room to the fireplace, throwing her gloves to the side along the way. Thankfully the room still held residual heat, enough so that she couldn’t see her breath though it was still quite chilly.

Throwing a few logs onto the grate, she snapped her fingers once more and crouched before the hearth to slowly bring the fire to life. It crackled comfortingly. Amaryllis closed her eyes for a moment to soak in the warmth, startling a bit at the sudden squeak of the door opening and slamming shut. She turned and stood quickly to greet her husband with a smile as he shook the snow from his head, stomping his feet before removing his boots, just as she had done. When he began to remove his cloak she realized she had forgotten to take off her own and quickly reached for the clasp at the front, pulling it off her shoulders to hang at its hook near the door. The snow at her shoulders had melted, wetting both her hair and her shirt beneath. The fabric clung to her skin, uncomfortably damp. 

She shivered and with a sigh, began to unbutton her shirt. Each button she loosed exposed her skin further to the stinging heat of the fire. Amaryllis pulled her arms free and let it fall to the floor behind her, turning closer to the grate, her upper body now bare save for her breastband. 

Footsteps patted softly against the floor from behind and calloused hands came to grip her upper arms. Lips brushed against the tender skin of her neck and down her right shoulder. Amaryllis let her head fall to the side on instinct, smiling when her husband audibly exhaled, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek, coaxing her to turn her head back towards him so that their lips could meet. When they did her mouth opened in a contented sigh, allowing Cullen to deepen their kiss, pulling her flush against the front of his body.

Amaryllis spent a moment savoring the hot press of his mouth and the brush of his fingertips across her collarbone before she pulled back. She watched as Cullen’s gaze slid from her parted lips down to where she knew her breasts were pressed against him, her chest rising and falling with each panting breath. A quick tug at the back and off her breastband came, settling to the floor beside her shirt.

“What brought this on?” She asked, unable to keep herself from picking at the ties of his own shirt, sliding her hands across Cullen’s chest to thread her fingers into the hair at his nape. 

He tilted his head down to press their lips together once more and murmured, “I love you.”

She smiled and tried to answer, but the moment her lips parted to speak Cullen’s tongue slipped back inside. He dragged his fingers down her spine to her lower back, pressing them closer so she could feel him, stiff against her stomach. Amaryllis moaned. Her nipples slid across his heated skin, hardening to peaks. He broke their kiss quickly to crouch low enough to take one into his mouth, scraping it gently with his teeth, pulling back to lap at it with the tip of his tongue. 

Amaryllis shifted against him, feeling restless, caught between allowing him to continue or dragging him to the floor to have her way with him. Thankfully, Cullen seemed to decide for her. He let go with a pop and stood quickly, without preamble, and whipped a blanket from the nearest chair, laying it out before the hearth. 

“So impatient,” she joked, grinning at the way his ears flushed a light pink in embarrassment as he whipped his shirt off and into the corner of the room. She could still remember a time when the same comment would have left him red-faced and stuttering, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. 

Now, he smiled, no longer the sheepish man he had once been, and took her hand in his, pulling her down to lay comfortably in front of the fire. “Only because I want you.”

The blanket wasn’t much to cushion her back against the floor but it didn’t matter. Once Amaryllis was sprawled out upon the blanket Cullen moved above her, caging her beneath him to take her breast into his mouth again. He sucked and teased at the right and squeezed her left with his sword-roughened touch.   
  
His mouth continued to take. He trailed his fingers down her heaving chest to the edge of her pants and dug his fingers in to haul them down abruptly, along with her smalls. Amaryllis laughed through her answering moan, lifting her hips to help him get to where she knew he was going. Cullen didn’t hesitate once they were off to push her legs apart, propping one on his shoulder and curling his arm under the other to hold her open the way he liked.

She couldn’t help but spread herself open wider at the first, grazing touch of his lips against her inner thigh, hips twitching in the direction of his wandering mouth. He slowly brushed his mouth along the sensitive groove between her thighs and groin, back and forth, teasing Amaryllis until she lifted a hand to push him where she wanted. Cullen chuckled, low in his throat, and did so without additional prodding.   
  
The touch of his tongue, flat and soft against her clit, had her back arching off the floor. Pleasure like lightning spread throughout her body to the very tips of her fingers. His mouth closed around her, suckling gently as he pulled his arm out from under her leg to run a finger along her cunt. She was slick and dripping already. 

Amaryllis knew she needed no extra preparation at this point. Cullen could push inside of her now, meeting no resistance, and bring them both to completion. She also knew that Cullen would not be willing to do so just yet—not without bringing her to orgasm, first. 

She gasped at the feeling of one finger, then two, thrusting inside her, unable to stop herself from clenching around him. The stubble on his chin pricked, painfully delicious, along her folds. Cullen groaned against her and turned his head to sink his teeth—not enough to pierce the skin but enough to sting, to cause her legs to twitch and toes to curl against his back—into her thigh, then went back to lapping at her clit in quick, broad strokes of his tongue.  
  
Amaryllis could feel him trembling, too: his shoulders tight, rippling with strain, as if he were holding himself back. She ground herself against him, curling her fists into the blanket beneath them. The thought of him still being so attracted to her, after years together, had her pushing herself down onto his fingers in wild abandon. Her orgasm came swiftly then, with no warning, rushing through her like the rapids of a waterfall; her hips rode through it in cresting waves.   
  
She laughed as she came down, loosening the tight hold of her thighs holding Cullen close. He licked through her folds gently, chuckling when she quivered and whined, only pulling back when she forced him away with fumbling hands.   
  
His fingers slid from her, leaving Amaryllis aching in their wake. Her legs slid from his shoulders and they both sat up to tear at the fastenings of his pants. She helped pull them just below his cock, too impatient to wait even a moment longer, and took the hot, silken flesh of him in her hand. He twitched against her, slick beading at the tip. She ran her thumb over it, spreading it over the smooth head of his cock, and began to wiggle herself into a position where she could easily take him into her mouth. A hand against her shoulder quickly pushed her back, gently, and she fell to her elbows with a slight grimace. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. Amaryllis watched him take his fingers, still wet with her juices, and slide them along his flushed, throbbing member. She swallowed thickly and laid back, curling her legs around his bottom to pull him forward, biting her bottom lip as he almost lost his balance. His cock slid against her belly, leaving a trail of flames across her sensitive skin.  
  
Cullen huffed out a laugh. He took himself in hand again, used the other to hold himself up over Amaryllis, and drove the thick head of his cock into her. They both gasped at the delicious glide, and the tightening of her cunt around him. His mouth parted and he leaned forward, swiping his tongue across her bottom lip. She surged up to meet him.   
  
Groaning into his mouth, Amaryllis dug her fingers into his hair and canted her hips to meet him, pulling his naked flesh to hers. His breath came in harsh exhales as he moved, his hips slamming forward at a steady, unrelenting pace. She could feel the frantic beat of his heart against her breast.   
  
The muscles of his shoulders bunched, his thighs tensing further as he held himself up just enough to keep from crushing her beneath him and lifted one hand to slide between them. The pad of one calloused finger brushed across her clit and she hissed at the painful sensitivity, pulling back to swat his hand away. He withdrew his arm with a grunt. His chest rumbled, vibrating through her as he laughed once more. 

“Too much?” he asked. 

She nodded, choosing not to speak, and instead took the opportunity to nip along his neck then slip her tongue back up to where his stubble began along his jawline. Slowly, he pulled himself free from her grasp, sitting back on heels to readjust their position. They both grimaced at the way their sweat-slick skin unstuck. 

When he pressed against her again his cock slipped, sliding through her dripping wet folds, and she leaned up to wrap gentle fingers around the base, helping him drive back inside. This time when he hitched his hips up, grinding into the welcoming walls of her cunt, the movement sparked, spreading an indescribable ache through her to the very tips of her toes.   
  
Amaryllis pressed herself closer on instinct, rutting up against him and urging him deeper. Her swollen, oversensitive clit rubbed across the skin of his lower belly, simultaneously too much and not enough. She wanted more, needed him closer, so she pushed harder, slammed her hips up to meet him with every ragged hitch of her breath. Cullen’s mouth was blistering on her neck, lips hot and wet as he dragged his teeth lightly across her jaw. _“Please, please, please,”_ she begged. “Cullen, please.” Her thigh muscles tightened, so taut she was afraid they might snap.   
  
Her husband knew just what to do then. His rhythm stayed steady —every movement measured and precise, a constant brush against her sensitive walls. He reached between their heaving bellies to stroke his fingers down to where she was split open on his cock, then back up to her clit, dragging his slick fingertips so deliciously across her overheated skin that it drove Amaryllis straight to the edge.   
  
Her orgasm came at the glide of her breasts against his chest. It pressed low in her belly, a surprisingly gentle unspooling of heat that pulsed through her cunt, causing Cullen to groan, the movement of his fingers faltering in time with his now broken rhythm. Then, he froze suddenly, save for the quivering in his thighs, and gave a strangled cry of surprise. Amaryllis pulled him away from where he had hidden his face in her neck and pressed her lips to his, sliding her tongue along his until he came back to himself, laughing.   
  
Cullen leaned away to flash Amaryllis a slight sheepish smile. She shrugged and ran her nails lightly across his stubble, pressing in for one last kiss. “That was amazing,” she said in reassurance. “Obviously.”   
  
She twisted to grab whatever discarded clothing was nearest and used it to wipe the mess from herself when Cullen finally slid out. When she finished he rolled them to their sides so that Amaryllis faced the fire, which was just beginning to dim. She jumped up quickly, though Cullen protested with a grunt, to throw another log into the hearth, snapping her fingers in a quick spell to bring it back to life. She settled back onto the blanket and wiggled into his waiting arms, grinning when she brushed against his sensitive cock. Cullen squeezed her against him in retaliation, rubbing the spiky scruff of his chin across her shoulder. 

  
A moment of quiet passed as they listened to the gentle, soothing crackle of the smoldering fire. Cullen ran the pads of his fingers up and down Amaryllis’s arm, slow and sweet, and cleared his throat lightly to speak. “I’m sorry for earlier,” he said.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Cullen. You can’t control the weather.” Amaryllis reached back and entwined their fingers, resting their joined hands against her chest. “I didn’t want to come home, either. I know how much the holiday means to you.”

“And you as well,” he murmured. His chest rose and fell harshly against her back as he sighed. His hot breath ruffled the hair at her temple. Amaryllis knew without a doubt that he was frowning again, his brows likely pulled so close together that the wrinkle they left behind would be visible for hours. “There’s more to your excitement around the holidays than the mere thought of Mia’s cooking, I know.”

The formerly hollow portion of her chest, where her heart had once grown small, ached as the image of her mother hanging ornaments along the tree flashed before her. It danced through the flames, dissipating into a string of smoke that glided up towards the chimney. In it she saw her first Wintersend with the Rutherfords: the entire Rutherford family, and their families, gathered around the large table Mia’s husband had built for that very purpose. Branson’s son, Geoffrey, sneakily sliding out of his chair and under the table to attempt to stick his fingers into the cake his mother had baked for them all and Rosalie, grabbing his shirt to yank him back into his seat. Cullen, serving roasted carrots to Mia’s youngest daughter, Sophie, with the biggest smile while she argued with her father over who would be doing the washing that evening. And Mia, who had turned to Amaryllis after watching it all unfold before her and grasped her hand, squeezing it firmly, her gaze filled with so much more love than Amaryllis could comprehend in that moment.   
  
That look in Mia’s eyes had awakened something in her. It spread through her, around her, had filled that strange empty part of her chest with a heart that had suddenly grown three sizes too big, a heart so large and full that she was left unsure of what to do with all of it.   
  
“You’re right, there is more to it,” she said. “I adore your family and our trips to your sister’s farm. They mean the world to me, just as they do to you. Just as you do to them.”

“I don’t like the thought of missing another holiday with them.” Cullen pressed a kiss to her temple and murmured, as if he were ashamed to admit it. “I spent so many years away, so many years wishing I had stayed for one last Wintersend, First Day, Satinalia, and now that I’m here… _free_ … I’m alone again.”

“You’re not alone,” Amaryllis turned in his arms to face him, knowing he would be frowning, his expression guilt-ridden as he processed his own thoughts. Realization passed through his gaze and he parted his lips in what she knew would be an apology, his shoulders tensing in preparation, but she spoke before he could, shaking her head to stop him. “And you never were, no matter how much it felt like it. While you sat awake at night, thinking of them, they thought of you.” He bowed his head towards hers and closed his eyes, laid his brow to her cheek and sighed against her skin. She curled a hand into his hair and rubbed softly at his scalp until he began to relax. “You’re not alone, and you never will be. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He turned again to bury his face into her hair, pressed kisses to her forehead, down her jaw, the side of her neck, until she began to laugh. When he finally pulled back to meet her gaze again, he was _light_. 

“Never alone,” he agreed. 

Amaryllis brushed the tip of her pointer finger against his bottom lip and scratched at his prickly chin, running her nails across his skin, gently. She smiled. “Since we’re missing out on such a feast, I think we deserve _some_ sort of treat.”

Cullen chuckled, letting go of her with one last squeeze to slide out from behind her. His thigh muscles flexed as he stood, drawing Amaryllis’s eyes to what laid between them, causing her to bite her lip at the sight. The fire crackled behind her as if in agreement. “I think we may still have the chocolates Leliana sent along with her last letter.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” she said, standing along with him. “Though it isn’t what I was referring to.”

He paused and watched her stretch, his eyes automatically trained to the way her breasts moved while her back arched. “Oh?” Cullen questioned, his hands twitching towards her as if out of his control.   
  
From the corner of her eye Amaryllis could see where the blizzard still raged outside the window, painting the world in white. Snow fell against the panes, then danced away with the wind, weightless.   
  
Amaryllis stepped closer to her husband and pulled his hands to her ass. His cock began springing to life against her inner thigh. She pressed herself tighter against him, and smiled again. 

_"Maker,"_ he groaned.

“This time,” she said “let’s see if we can make it to the bed."


End file.
